


The Sailor and The Siren

by bazypitchandsimonsnow (ChessPargeter)



Series: Askfic Kiss Meme Requests [10]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Mermaids, Sirens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 04:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13356936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChessPargeter/pseuds/bazypitchandsimonsnow
Summary: Simon has lived on a ship his entire life. But everything changes when someone mysterious saves him from a storm. Based on "steamy underwater kiss" request.





	The Sailor and The Siren

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I'm really sorry this took so long. After the Carry On Countdown, I was hit with a sucker punch of depression that really fucked with my productivity. Literally spent days in bed just sleeping or tumblring or reading fanfiction with zero motivation. But the depression started to let up in the new year, so I eased myself back into writing with some original work and a short TRC fic, and with a lot of help/encouragement from my bestie NewYearsEveBaby02, I got this done! Enourmous thank you to her because she is my angel and muse and this whole thing would not exist without her. This is probably my longest published fic. It's ridiculous and cheesy, but hey, that's my specialty :)  
> Disclaimer: I don't speak Turkish and had to use Google translate and a Turkish-English dictionary. I hope they're simple enough sentences they make sense.

**Simon**

Some say that living on a ship sounds like fun. Those people have never lived on a ship.

I have though, for my entire life. All 18 years of it. My father, Captain David, is a well known and respected seafarer. He’s one of the best merchants and traders in England. We travel all over the world, delivering and picking up cargo. He haggles with locals, gets the best deals for their wares, all that. Like earlier today, when he somehow finagled his way into 30 boxes of high end Indian spices. It’s practical gold back in Great Britain.

“Simon!” Father barks from the top of the ship. “Be careful with those spices. They’re worth more than your hide!”

“Yes, sir,” I grumble, shifting the crate in my arms. This is what I’m mostly good for, lifting heavy stuff. Sometimes I think my father only had a son to help with manual labour. But stepping up the plank with such heavy cargo towards main deck proves difficult, my knees buckling under me. Quickly, my balance goes off. And there goes the box. It falls into the sea below with a loud ‘plonk’.

“For God’s sake Simon!” Father is fuming, face practically red. Maybe that’s from the Egyptian sun but I doubt it. “What did I just say?!”

“Sorry, sir.” I look at my feet. (At least they don’t shout at me.)

“You’re going to pay for that, son, I promise. And no supper tonight.”

I try to ignore my suddenly growling stomach. He knows I love food, and uses it to his advantage constantly. Sometimes I wish he didn’t know me so well.

He turns his back on me. “Get the next crate. And don’t drop this one!”

I clench my fist. It’d be so easy to just punch him. Hit him once across the jaw, maybe knock him into the salty sea water. But then what? My mother is dead and I’ve never met her family. Hell, I don’t even know where in England they are. The HMS Watford is the only home I’ve ever known. Where would I go?

“Yes, sir,” I say calmly.

I hear a crack of thunder somewhere in the distance. And it perfectly compliments my mood.

* * *

 

I wake to yelling. Lots of people screaming and shouting random words and orders. I race from my hammock below deck to the grate that serves as my door.

The rain hits my head hard, like pebbles falling from the sky. Thunder explodes across the sky so loudly it’s deafening. A streak of lightning blinds me. I shield my eyes as I emerge from the ladder. I stumble back and forth with the rock of the boat.

“Simon!” I hear my father’s voice, but can’t see where he is. The rain obscures my vision too much. “Simon, get the main mast.”

“B-But I- I don’t- Father I can’t-” Words catch in my throat, stuck there by fear.

“Stop blustering and do it!”

I run to what should be the main mast rope, grabbing blindly for it. All I feel is empty air. Panic stirs and bubbles in my stomach. It only makes my movements more and more erratic. Which doesn’t help me find the rope. It's a terrible cycle of fear and uselessness.

“Wave incoming!” Someone yells.

I open my eyes just in time to see the massive wave barreling towards the ship. It hits the side so hard the whole body goes sideways. My entire world perspective is thrown off, the wood floor boards disappearing beneath my feet. I faintly hear other crew members, along with my father, as I fly through the air. But the blood pounding in my ears is too loud.

I hit the ocean with a painful splat. It nearly breaks my bones. I can barely control my body anymore. The noises of the raging storm are deafened in the sea water. I watch the blurry sky falling further and further away, my hands weakly grasping at the fading world.

My vision starts to go. But just as I’m about to fully pass out, a blur of grey crosses my view, and I swear someone’s arms wrap around my middle.

But then, I pass out.

* * *

 

I feel warm. The sunlight is beating down on my skin. The ground beneath me is scratchy and coarse. Sand, I’m laying on sand. What happened to drowning?

Slowly, I open my eyes. Everything is still blurry. All I can see is the light at first. Then something crosses in front of me. It blocks the sun. Bit by bit, I can make out the colours. Reddish-gold, with a circle of black outlining it like a curtain over my face. I recognise a hand lightly holding my cheek. It’s cold and wet, the skin mildly scratchy for some reason. My vision slowly focuses, just enough to see a pair of sharp grey eyes boring down into me, but still too blurry to see every detail.

“What?” I choke out. “Who are y-”

“Simon? Simon are you there?”

My father’s voice makes the blurry face turn quickly. Whoever it is, they give me one last look before vanishing. My muscles find their strength just in time to bolt up, reaching my arms towards the fleeing figure. All I catch a flash of grey disappearing beneath the bright blue water.

“What on earth?” I say under my breath.

“Captain! He's here.” I turn to see my father’s first mate, Premal, standing on a rock above me. Father soon rushes out from behind him. He looks worn and tired, blue eyes bloodshot. He scrambles to kneel beside me.

“Simon are you alright?” He says frantically.

“I- uh...” My brain isn't exactly functioning right now.

“Are you alright?!” Father grips my shoulders painfully.

“Yes! Yes, I'm okay.”

Father sighs. He doesn't hug me (he never does), but merely pats my back and stands up. “Good. C’mon, let's get back to Watford.”

I sneak one last look at the shoreline, and notice something twinkly, grey, and moving just under the sea’s surface.

* * *

 

“What do you mean stuck!?” Father’s voice is so loud I swear bloody England can hear him from here.

We’ve been racing around all day, trying to fix the ship and salvage cargo. And he’s just been lording over us with a scowl. Doesn’t lift a finger to help us of course.

“I’m not sure what else I can tell you, Captain,” Premal says weakly. “There’s no wind. We can’t go to Venice if there’s no wind to take us there. We’ll have to stay in here in Cyprus for the time being.”

“Dammit!” Father slams his fist on port railing. I don’t see why he’s getting so angry. It’s not like Premal has any control over the weather. Father takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Fine,” he sighs. “We’ll just stay on the ship until the wind picks up again. Simon, go into town and get us some food. We’ll be here awhile.”

He tosses a bag of coins at me. I look down at the little sack and sigh. Right, errand boy. That’s all I’m good for.

I leave the ship silently.

One upside of being stuck: Cyprus is absolutely gorgeous. Palm trees and beautiful plants line the dirt roads. The houses are wide and open with beautiful red clay roofs. Everything smells like the ocean, which to me, smells like home. I stroll past the homes towards the centre of town. The number of people increase as I go, all bustling around, talking in English or French or Turkish. I slither my way between them, going to a market stall.

I haggle with a (very loud) fellow Brit for dried meat, then a Turkish man for pickled vegetables. I’m very good at this, considering it’s what Father sends me to do all the time. (It’s what I’m best at.) Loaded down with food, I start to walk back out of the town square. My eyes wander and fall on a crafts stall, with lots of stained glass and fancy beads. All very pretty. But I catch on something in particular. I freeze.

I rush to the stall and stare at the mosaic plate hanging down. It’s easy to see that it’s a mythical mermaid, one of the ladies to sea. Every sailor has heard of them. But this one is particularly beautiful, and familiar. Her skin is a gorgeous reddish-gold, black hair flying out behind her. In place of legs is a long, graceful grey fishtail. Her eyes stare back at me with a smile. They’re a sharp grey.

“Excuse me?” I say to the shopkeeper. “Who’s on this plate?”

“ _Ne?_ ” she replies. Shit, I only speak a bit of Turkish.

“Um,” I take the plate down, holding it in front of her, “who is this? Uh, _bu...kim_?”

“ _O bir denizkızı. Gri Bayan._ ”

‘Mermaid’ makes enough sense. But ‘Grey Lady’ is something strange. It’s appropriate though, considering her coloring. I trace my fingers over the storm cloud coloured tiles, then turn to the shopkeeper.

_“Ne kadar?”_

_“2 liras”_

I hand over two coins and take the plate. The glass glints in the sunlight. And my brain drifts back to this early morning on the beach.

* * *

 

The crew is drunkenly singing below deck. I’m not allowed, of course. Even though I’m an adult now, I’m still considered the little kid around here. I lean over the ship railing, staring out at the sea. It looks different at night. Stars sparkle on the black surface. Every bit of light is amplified in the nighttime. And said light reflects off my plate of the Grey Lady. The coloured shards look like tiny multi-coloured stars.

Premal stumbles out from the stairs. He can’t walk in a straight line he’s so pissed. He crashes against the railing next to me.

“Hello, Premal,” I say casually. “Can I ask you something?”

The man turns to me, looking suspicious. “Since when do you ask me stuff?”

I’d be offended, but he has a point. Despite Premal having been on my ship for five years, we don’t talk. I’m closer with his younger sister, Penelope, who lives back in England. She’s the smartest person I know. But Penelope isn’t allowed here sadly. Women are bad luck on ships, according to my father. And we haven’t been back to our home country in two years. So the closest thing I have to her right now is her drunk older brother. Hopefully his equally big brain can work through the alcoholic haze.

I lower my head, shrugging slightly. “I’m just wondering about something. Know anything about mermaids?”

He wonkily raises an eyebrow. “You mean pretty ladies with fishtails?”

“Yeah, I guess. One in particular though.” I hold up my plate. “This one. The local I met called her ‘the Grey Lady’”

Premal takes the plate and brings it close to his face, squinting with a furrowed brow. “Yes, I’ve heard of this Grey Lady. She’s a well known legend in this part of the Mediterranean. A beautiful siren. Tempts men off their ships into the sea.”

“Hm, pleasant.”

“Why do you ask?”

I take the plate back. I’ve been staring at it all day. And with every passing minute I’m more convinced that what I saw was real. But it can’t be right? It’s a legend. A legend of a woman who makes sailors drown, not save them from the sea.

“No reason,” I mumble.

* * *

 

Three days and still no wind. Father’s mood has been souring with every passing minute. Of course he’s been taking it out on me. My ears are bleeding from all his shouting. That’s why I’m here, sitting in an alcove out of sight from the ship. I just stare at the ocean. It’s on fire with the setting sun.

I try skip the stone over the red-orange water. Of course it doesn’t get very far. (I’ve never been good at that.) I humph, legs tucked in and arms wrapped around my knees. I just sit there, letting my eyes wander across the great expanse of the Mediterranean.

Which is why I can see a flash of grey in the distance.

My spine straightens. It’s only a flash, just a glimpse among the hot colours from the sun. I scramble to my feet. There’s nothing else for a few long seconds. The sensible part of me says not to tempt fate. To just accept that I survived that storm by some miracle. No strange siren involved whatsoever.

But as my father constantly points out, I’m not sensible

“If you’re really out there,” I shout, “then just show yourself. I know what you are. Can we...I don’t know...talk? Something like that?”

I wait. But there’s only the sounds of the oceans. Waves rippling and birds cawing. After minutes of nothing, I sigh and turn around to find another rock to not skip. Might as well. There’s nothing else interesting to do.

“Hello,” a smooth voice says from behind me. “You called?”

“Gah!” I fall flat on my behind and scrabble forwards. Sadly, there’s not a lot of room in the alcove, so I only get a few feet in. Slowly, with heavy breath I turn my head.

Just like in my plate and in my memories, I see reddish gold skin, long dark hair, and grey eyes. But...this isn’t the Grey Lady. It can’t be. This is a man.

Only his head pokes out from the water. Hs soaked raven hair hangs in front of his sharp face, swirling eyes peeking out. Up close and full conscious, I can see that his eyes are more than just grey. They’re a mixture of dark blue and dark green, like the colour of the deep sea. The sunset reflects beautifully off his dark tan skin. He’s smirking devilishly, sharp teeth just showing from behind his lips. He reminds me of the merchants I saw in Egypt. Or closer yet, the old royalty of that land. He matches the gorgeous features I saw immortalised in clay and towering above everyone.

“Holy shit,” I breath out. “You’re real.

“Yes, I’m aware,” he replies cooly.

“And...a boy.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that a surprise?”

“I-It’s just that, I heard this story about...the Grey Lady. And she looked just like you so I assumed...”

His face falls for a brief moment. The smirk slips, he wet lips parting slightly. I almost see pain in his expression. But as soon as I see it, he suddenly goes cold, his entire expression turning to stone.

“I’m not her,” he says, voice sharp like ice.

Part of me wants to ask for more information. But a much louder part of me wants to stay alive. “O-Okay. Then, who are you? Do you have a name?”

“I don’t think you could say my full name properly. Our language is complicated for humans. But you can call me Baz.”

“Alright then...Baz.” I shuffle forward, less than a foot away from the coast. I stick my hand out. “I’m Simon.”

He looks at my hand apprehensively. Oh right, he’s not human. Probably doesn’t know what a handshake is. I inch forward just a bit. “You’re supposed to grab my hand and shake it a bit.”

His brows push together. “Why?”

“It’s a way humans say hello.”

He still looks confused, but slowly comes closer. Half his neck emerges, and I see a little round flap of skin. Like a fish’s gill. (Jesus, it probably _is_ a gill.) His hand comes next. He has five fingers like a human, but there’s a bit of flesh in between them, and his nails are long, sharp claws. A spattering of grey scales reach from his wrist and up his arm. He grabs my hand, and his skin is wet and cold, as it should be. I shake him once, then let go. Baz slinks back into the water, but not as far as as he was before.

“So you’re actually real,” I blurt out.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yes. I think we’ve already established that.”

“S-Sorry. It’s just...It’s sort of weird to see a magical creature. Especially one that saved you.” I shuffle closer. “Why did you save me? I-I thought mermaids kill sailors. The Grey Lady does.”

Baz’s mouth twist, looking very annoyed. “First of all, it’s merman or siren for me. Again established, I’m a boy.”

I look away embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“And secondly, I drown men with song. Not with storm.”

“But you could’ve just let me drown. Just not help at all.”

Baz stays silent for a second. I glance back up. Though most of his face is blank, his jaw moves slightly, like he’s trying to find the right words. Eventually he just scoffs, giving me an amused expression.

“Are you really going to question why you’re alive? Seems a bit redundant.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he has a point. He saved my life and I’m asking why. What’s that phrase Father always uses? ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?’ That seems to be one of those times it applies.

“Right,” I chuckle nervously, “I guess...thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now is that all you’d like to discuss?”

He pulls more into the water, silently giving me an out of our conversation, I think. Really, that is all. I have my confirmation. That the creature who saved me is in fact real. But...I don’t want him to go. I’ve met an impossible man. It would be ridiculous to let him go now.

“Well,” I say, voice more shaky than I’d like, “you, you can stay here with me. For a bit. I’ve got nowhere I want to be.”

Baz comes a bit closer. Though he still appears to keep his cool demeanor, I see his eyes widen ever so slightly with wonder. “And what would you suggest we do?”

“W-We could just...talk? I don’t get to talk to people a lot. Never have. Ships are too busy to pay attention to a child. That’s why I’m, I’m so bad at speaking.”

He comes even closer, stopping at a small rock just in front me. He puts his long arms on it and pillows his chin on them. I see that the line of scales trails up his arms to his shoulders, wrapping just under his collar bone. There are three round skin flaps on his neck. (Yeah, they’re fucking gills.) (Dear lord what have I gotten myself into?)

“I don’t mind. I think all you humans sound funny.”

I giggle. “Alright then. How about...I ask you a question, and you ask me one?”

“Sounds fair. You ask first.”

I grin. I sit cross legged and lean over him, like an eager child waiting for a story. “Well, I’ve seen almost all the ocean’s surface. But what’s it like underwater?”

Baz smiles back, showing all his shark like teeth. I feel like I should be scared, but I’m not. It’s the first time anyone has smiled at me like that in ages. “It’s many things. But most of all, it’s endless.”

* * *

 

“Get those rails shining, Simon!” Father bellows. “We need to look spotless when we dock in Venice. Merchants know a shining ship is a sign of wealth.”

“‘Shining, wealth, compensating for your prick size with a big ship. Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” I grumble.

“What was that?”

My spine straightens. “Nothing, Father.”

I mindlessly wipe the brass rail. It’s been an entire week, and we’re still here. Not that I’m complaining. Quite the opposite actually. Part of me wants to stay here forever. Especially when I see a glint of grey out of the corner of my eye.

My face splits in a grin. I look around to see that Father is busy with something I don’t care about. So I sprint as fast as I can off the ship and towards the cove. There’s nothing more freeing than running across the bright white sand away from the ship. Every step in the grainy surface is a little more distance from my father, and a little closer to the one person I look forward to seeing everyday.

Baz is already in the cove, floating out of the water at just above his waist. It’s startling how smooth his skin is, accented by those grey scales. It reminds me that he’s certainly not human. He’s a lot more.

“Hello, sailor man,” he says smoothly.

I roll my eyes. “You know my name.”

“Sailor man is a lot more fun to say.”

I take my usual seat, cross legged on the rock, looking down at him. He’s always such a sight to behold. With his long black hair and sharp face and endless grey eyes. Quite honestly, I’d be perfectly happy to stare at him for hours. But hearing him talk is really nice too.

Baz leans his arms on my rock, gazing up at me with his deep water eyes. “So what do you want to hear about today? More about pretty fish?”

“Hm, we talked a lot about pretty fish yesterday. What about pretty coral instead?”

Baz chuckles. It’s a low amused sound from deep in his throat. “You like pretty things in the ocean, huh?”

 _Yes, like you,_ I almost say. But my nervous tongue, scared of saying the wrong words, keeps me from it. So I just shrug, making him smirk.

“If you so insist, sailor man.”

Baz launches into a tale about a great coral reef he found far south east. It was so massive it took him days to explore. Though we started with exchanging information, it’s quickly become Baz telling me about his findings in the ocean. Which I don’t mind. What he has to say is far more interesting than my stumbling words. He talks grandly, performing with graceful hand gestures like an actor.

“And there were so many colours,” he muses, “I swear, it was almost blinding. I would have spent ages there. But I wanted to come back to my-” He suddenly stops, both talking and moving, frozen in place. There’s an odd mixture of fear and sorrow in his eyes. I scoot forward ever so slightly.

“Come back to wha-”

“I wish I could take you there instead of just telling you,” Baz says quickly. He looks down, tracing patterns in the rock with a long, sharp finger. My heart sinks slightly. Whatever, or maybe whoever, he came back for, he doesn’t want to talk about it or them right now. As someone who doesn’t talk about anything, I somehow understand.

I lay down on my stomach, pillowing my chin like he does. I’m close enough I can almost smell the salty sea scent wafting off him. “I wish I could too,” I reply, tracing patterns next to him. “I’d love to see everything you’ve seen.”

An evil smile crawls across his face. It’s devilish charm is only increased by his sharp teeth. “Well, I can’t show you everything. But I could show you something.”

My head perks up. “Really?”

“Yes. If you would like, it’s possible.”

I nod so hard my neck hurts. “Yes! I would definitely like!”

Baz chuckles at my eagerness. “Very well. Follow me.” He slinks further into the water, obviously preparing to go under it. My eyes widen.

“W-Wait...you...you want me to go...under water?”

He quirks a single perfect eyebrow. “Yes. Was I not clear?”

“But-but that’s impossible! Right?!”

“Not for me.” I chew on my lip, still not moving an inch. Baz moves forward again. His expression is open, almost warm. The warmest I’ve ever seen him. “I promise you’ll be okay. Trust me.”

There’s very few people I trust. Penelope, Premal (maybe), and...that’s it. My father doesn’t even come close. So one person, two maybe. But looking at Baz, with his face so open, his words so genuine, that list may need to be updated.

“Okay,” I sigh. “Give me a moment.”

Baz smiles softly and pulls back. I stand and begin unbuttoning my waistcoat. Baz inhales sharply.

“W-What are you doing?” he stutters out.

“I’m not swimming in all my clothes. Obviously.”

“Of course. Obviously...” Baz sinks further into the sea, only showing the top half of his head. He’s pointedly looking away. Guess sirens are prudes. Weird, considering they swim around shirtless.

I throw off my waistcoat, cravat, buckled shoes, and wool stockings. Once I unlace my long shirt and toss it aside, I’m left only in my black breeches. I want as few of my clothes as possible to get wet. But I’m beyond nervous. I’ve never been so undressed in front of anyone since childhood. Baz looks at me wide eyed, gaze trailing over me. I feel nerves and self consciousness pool in my gut. I know I’m skinny, as Father tends to only give me the food scraps left by the crew, and I’m covered in freckles and moles like a bloody Irishman. It’s been a point of mockery among the other sailors all my life. I cross my arms over my chest, curling in on myself.

“What?” I bite out.

Baz’s face emerges from the water. “I’m, I’m just curious...what are those spots? I’ve never seen them before. On humans or merfolk. I-I didn’t know they went beyond your face either.”

I look away, trying to hide the embarrassed heat pooling in my cheeks. “They’re called freckles and moles. And save your cruel words, I already know they’re ugly.”

“Who told you that?”

I scoff. “Everyone.”

“Well, then humans are more idiotic than I originally believed.”

I turn back. His face is blank, nearly emotionless, like he’s just stating a fact. But I can almost spot a little red on his cheeks, almost mimicking my own. And I wonder if the colour really is from prudish embarrassment like I initially believed.

“C’mon sailor man,” he says, “we don’t have all day.”

I sigh, the smallest smile on my lip. “Sadly, we do not.”

I wade into the water. Unlike most Englishmen, I know how to swim. (Every sailor has to.) Baz swims out further and I follow, until I need to kick to keep my head above the waves. He suddenly stops and turns to face me.

“Okay,” he says firmly. “On three, dunk your head. And don’t come back up. Just trust me, it will be alright. Understand?”

“Understood.”

“Alright. One, two, three!”

I plunge into the tepid sea. I keep my mouth closed and eyes scrunched up. The salt water feels weird to float in. It feels like everything is in slow motion. Suddenly, a rough hand covers my face. The palm presses on my lips, and two fingers grace my eyelids. It stays there for what feels like eternity. His touch burns against my skin. I can feel it in my whole face, reaching down to singe my already burning lungs. My breath is running out. Shit, shit, I need air! Just as I’m about to pull away, Baz’s hand falls back, and I hear a voice in my head. His voice.

_“Breathe, Simon.”_

Desperate (and trusting Baz), I inhale deeply. Saltwater rushes down my throat and I prepare myself to drown. But I exhale easily. I take a few more experimental breathes. Oh good lord, I can breathe underwater! It's difficult, but I can do it. I slowly open my eyes. They don’t sting from the salt, or blur in the water. I can see everything as clear as if I were on land. Including Baz.

My breath hitches. For the first time, I can see all of Baz. I’ve only ever seen him from the mid-waist up. I’ve seen that he’s not incredibly muscular but he’s still defined. And I now know that’s true for his entire torso. But it’s what his waist tapers into that catches my eye.

Of course I know Baz is mermaid (wait, no, merman), but seeing up close is something else entirely. His tail is long and powerful, a strong body extending into an even more powerful forked fin. It’s covered in the same grey scales the dapple his skin and share colour with his eyes. They vary in tone, starting dark near his waist and lightening towards the end. It’s like looking at a storm cloud hit with sunlight. I can’t look away.

 _“My eyes are up here,”_ he says amused, once again in my head. Wait, how’s he doing that?

I look up and try to speak, but my voice doesn’t carry in the water. Baz taps against his head and mouths, “think it.”

 _“How can I hear your voice when you’re not talking?”_ I think, directed at Baz. He smiles like he’s heard me.

 _“This is how my kind speak,”_ he replies (guess he can hear me). _“We don’t use our voices. We use our minds. I’ve given you the ability to. Along with breathing and seeing underwater. Temporarily, that is.”_

_“H-How?”_

He smiles smugly. _“Sirens can do a lot more than charm you sailor men off ships.”_ I grin back. He holds his hand out. _“Now let’s go. We must not keep the sea waiting.”_

I take his hand in mine, and off we go.

The mediterranean is even more beautiful below than above. Green rocks cover the ocean floor. A school of bright aquamarine fish swims below us. I gasp so hard it would be audible on land. Baz pulls me down further into the water. (He could go faster with his magnificent tail, but is obviously slowing down for me.) Strangely, my ears do not pop like they have before in deep water. Another miracle of Baz’s siren magic, I suppose.

We go past rocks with every colour of coral attached to them. Vibrant yellows and magentas beyond my imagination. I reach out to touch it, but Baz grabs my hand. I turn to him and he shakes his head, looking genuinely worried.

_“Careful, it’s sharp.”_

I nod slowly. He pulls me forward, swimming over more coral and mossy rocks. I look up. We’re so deep I can hardly see the sun above. I’m away from my Father, from Watford, from everything I’ve ever known. And I never want to leave.

 _“Look over here, sailor man”_ Baz’s mind voice says.

I look down to where Baz is pointing. On the seafloor I see a large shipwreck, old and covered in the creations of the waters. Moss and algae coat the decayed wood. It’s obviously very old, looking like the old longboats of the Greeks.

 _“If you wish to know of the Grey Lady,”_ Baz says, almost sounding amused, _“then look at this. Her fine work.”_

_“Goodness. She sunk it?”_

_“Yes. Made all the men abandon it and let it crash into a cliff. It was many centuries ago though. She had a much harder time with ships nowadays.”_

My heart tightens. An unconscious fear rises up. I slowly turn to him. He looks at the ship with a blank face. So blank there must be something behind it related to the ship.

 _“Do merma-...sirens, live forever?”_ My thoughts say weakly. I know Baz is magical in so many ways, but his lifespan compared to mine has been one I’ve tried to avoid.

Baz stiffens. The blank mask does not fall. _“We live as long as we please. We grow to an age and stop until we decide otherwise. Or...until something gets us.”_

The mask slips. Just a titch. His lips fall open, eyelids pulling back. His gaze stays trained on the ship, hand still holding mine. My father may call me stupid, but I can make the connections. The Grey Lady was someone to Baz, and she most likely met the untimely end he’s just mentioned. No words I could muster feel sufficient. So I just squeeze his hand once, and the corner of his lip twitches up. At least I can do something right.

 _“I do wonder,”_ I say, _“does a siren’s song always have to entice sailors?”_

Baz opens his mouth in what I assume is a chuckle. _“No, I can sing normally. Not everything I do is about drowning sailor men.”_

_“Would you...show me one day? Your normal, not-drowning-me song?”_

His grey eyes flick over to me, smirking. _“Maybe. One day.”_

I smirk back. _“I look forward to that.”_

_“C’mon, there’s more to see before my magic wears off.”_

We swim forward, off to see more wonders. And I truly never want to go back to land.

* * *

 

I lay in my bed, staring up at the moon and night sky through my grate. I came home far too late and narrowly avoided a beating from Father. But it was worth it. All the wonders I saw would be worth a hundred shouts and missed suppers. When I close my eyes, I can still see them. Every bit of colourful coral, every fantastic underwater animal, every soft smile from Baz.

Suddenly, through the sounds of the sea outside, I hear a soft melody. It’s eerie, somewhat haunting, and vaguely inhuman. Like a ghost haunting an old church. Or a broken hearted maiden’s forlorn tune. It would be frightening to many. But I have a good idea where it’s coming from.

“Guess he couldn’t wait,” I whisper.

I drift off to sleep with Baz’s song carrying on the wind.

* * *

 

“Baz? Baz? Hey you out there?” I shout with my hands cupped over my mouth.

“Neptune’s beard, sailor man, are you trying to alert every person to my presence?”

I yelp and jump back. Baz is lounging in the cove, laying in the shallow water. His tail is showing but the walls of the cave hide him from other human eyes. He looks like a work of art as always.

“Sorry.” I sit next to him, bag on my lap. Baz looks at it curiously.

“What’s that?”

“My lunch. I swiped some coins from my father’s office and bought food in town. Since he gives me barely anything.”

“Wow, very bold for you.”

I shrug slightly, shoulders barely lifting. “I guess...I don’t know. I don’t really care what he thinks anymore.” It’s true. We’ve been here three weeks, and every day my father’s power over me feels lessened. Whenever he yells, I just let myself drift away to other things. The schools of fish, the brightly coloured coral, the face of a gorgeous siren-

I shake my head out my own thoughts. Baz is looking at me curiously, eyebrow raised and thin lips turned into a frown. I turn my head down and open the bag, ripping off a piece.

“This is Turkish bread,” I say quietly. “Want some?”

Baz cautiously takes it. He examines it a child would a new toy. Turning it over and over again, poking it with a sharp claw, sniffing it a few times.

“This is human food?” He says, half perplexed and half disgusted.

I chuckle, shaking my head at his toddler like expression. “Yes, one kind. Try it.”

He frowns, once again resembling a small child. And it’s actually the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. “Do I have to?”

“No, obviously. But you can if you like. I’ve seen your world. Try a bit of mine.” I take a large, ripping bite from the roll, and smile with a mouthful of sticky dough. Baz’s frown morphs into an amused smirk. Slowly, he bites his own piece, easily tearing it with his sharp teeth. I expect him to scowl and/or spit it out. But he rolls the food in his mouth, testing it’s taste and consistency, and slowly nods.

“It’s not terrible,” he states flatly. “You humans can do a few things right.”

“Oh thank you, great siren.” I make a grand bow, complete with an obnoxious waving hand and low dip.

Baz scoffs loudly. Suddenly, I’m splashed with a large spray of salt water. I sputter stupidly while Baz roars with laughter. His tail flips up and down like he’s kicking his feet, clutching his stomach.

“You’re such an arse,” I grumble, pushing my soaked bangs out of my eyes.

“Yet here you are.”

I can’t help but smile. It’s easy and soft. Because yes, here I am. And I don’t want to be anywhere else.

I cup my hand in the shallow pool, and throw a handful at Baz’s face. He gasps in shock, grey eyes wide with mock horror.

“Oh,” he chuckles. “You really want to start this, sailor man?”

With probably misplaced confidence, I shove my face towards his. “Are you not up to the challenge, siren boy?”

An evil grin creeps his face, complete with shining shark teeth to only make it more intimidating. I’d be scared, but if Baz really wanted to hurt me, he would’ve by now.

“Very well.”

Everything happens so fast I barely process it. Baz grabs my wrist and in a flash we’re submerged in the water up to my chest. He waves his hand, sending a minature wave right into my face. He doesn’t even touch the water. His magic really know no bounds.

I retaliate the old fashion way, throwing seawater over his already damp hair. We splash back and forth like little children in a tub.

“You know,” I chuckle through another water attack, “for a seemingly centuries old magical creature, you sure love water fights.”

“Age does not stop one from enjoying things. Including beating a human boy’s ass.”

He shoves a particularly strong wave at me, making me stumble back. A laugh bubbles out of my throat. I push back equally hard. He sputters and glowers at me from behind a curtain of soaked black hair.

“Don’t throw what you can’t take, merman,” I say with utter glee.

With a growl, he reciprocates the splash. We continue like that for ages, and I never want it to end. Not in a million years.

* * *

 

I lay back on the rock at the shore, feet dangling in the water. Baz is next to me, also completely out of breath, tail half out and half in the waves. I don’t know what time it is. We spent so much time in the water, playing then just swimming, that it’s nighttime now. The stars twinkle and shine above us like a thousand pieces of polished silver.

“I love the stars,” I sigh. “It’s one of the few things I like about being on a ship all the time.”

“Hm,” Baz says flatly. “I barely see them. Being underwater most of the time and such.”

I chuckle, shaking my head against the rock. “Of course. Do you know any of the constellations even?”

“What in Neptune’s name is a constellation?”

“It’s a pattern made of stars.”

Baz’s grey eyes adorably narrow. “I don’t see any patterns. They’re just lights.”

“No no, they’re there. Look.” I point towards the most shining star, a beacon all sailors know. “See that really really bright one? That’s Polaris. Now follow my finger down.” I slowly trace the sky like it’s a line on a map. “And there’s a square? See all that.”

“Yes, actually,” Baz says, genuinely surprised. “I do.”

“That’s ursa minor, or the little bear. See? The square is the body and the line going up is the tail. Or a leg, or a head. Depending on who you ask. You get it?”

I look over at Baz. His lips are rubbing together, brow furrowed in confusion. “I think so. But Simon...” He looks directly at me. “What’s a bear?”

I try to keep myself from laughing, I really do. But his utterly perplexed expression and adorable question are too much. I burst out in giggles, clutching my stomach. Baz huffs in a very annoyed tone.

“Sorry, sorry,” I sputter. “It’s just, it never occured to me someone wouldn’t know what a bear was. But it makes sense you wouldn’t, sorry.”

“So are you going to tell me or just keep laughing?”

I angle my head to him. He’s frowning, but it’s absolutely adorable. The way his bottom lip juts out and thin eyebrows pushed down. It reminds me of a small pouting child. I scoot closer, brushing my fingers against his. He flicks his sharp grey eyes over to me, and I just smile. He doesn’t exactly smile back, but he stops frowning. That’s enough.

“Well,” I say, turning back to the sky, “a bear is a big hairy beast. It’s massive and could crush you under it’s huge paws. Or rip you to pieces with it’s big teeth.”

“Sounds pleasant,” Baz deadpans.

“Yeah, not a happy animal. There’s people constellations too though. Like Hercules for instance. You’ve got his square...ish body there, and the lines there are his arms and legs. He’s kneeling on one leg with his hands up, see? Supposed to be swinging his club.” I outline the large shape in the sky. I remember Penny showing it to me back in London.

“Hercules, like the old Greek myth?”

I nod vigorously. “Yeah! You know those?”

“Of course. The great hero of Greece, completed the twelve labours, became a god. I was told all those stories by my mo-”

He inhales sharply, stopping the words in a breath. I whip my head back to face him. He looks somewhere between nervous and terrified. Every muscle in his face is too tight to be comfortable. I hate seeing him like this. Cautiously, I shift closer, and purposefully take his hand in mine. Not just brushing against him. But holding it firm, silently letting him know that I’m here for him. He holds me in return.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “You don’t have to talk about it...”

“No, I can. It’s just,” he lets out a long sigh. “I’ve never talked about it before. About her.”

“You...you mean the Grey Lady. Right?”

Baz nods slowly, biting nervously at his bottom lip. “She wasn’t the Grey Lady to me though. She was Natasha, in your language. Or, just...mother.”

All my fears are confirmed. I press my whole arm against Baz’s, trying to comfort him with just my presence. Strangely, it seems to work, as his muscles relax.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, trying to hide the nervousness in my voice.

“There isn’t much to talk about,” he replies flatly. “She was my mother. She raised and cared for me for years. Then...she died. And I’ve been alone ever since.”

My heart tightens, as does my grip on his hand. “You’ve...you’ve been alone?”

“Yes. Sirens are solitary by nature. My mother and I were outliers by being together. Most sirens leave their young when they’re about five years old. But she didn’t. She stayed with me. And even when I went away for awhile, I could always come back to her.”

There’s another word that has to be added. I can tell by the tone of his voice. “Until...”I whisper.

Baz sighs. Not annoyed with me, surprisingly, but more filled with sorrow. “Until, we were swimming too close to the surface one day. And some idiot fisherman threw a harpoon at me. She pushed me out of the way. It...it went through her neck. She died too quickly for me to help her.”

My god, and I thought my heart was breaking before. Slowly, I trace circles with my thumb over the back of his scaly hand. I touch my toe to his tail, trying to find more contact. “I’m sorry. That’s, horrible.”

“It was,” Baz says softly. “It was also ages ago. But I still miss her.”

“I-I sort of understand that.” He gives me a curious look. I look down, sort of embarrassed. “My mother died giving birth to me. I never even met her, but I still miss her. Penny says it doesn’t matter how long ago she died or if I knew her. She was still my Mum. And I miss her. Just like you miss yours, even though it’s been a long time. The hurt doesn’t just, vanish.”

I still don’t look up. My little speech was so stupid. Our situations are nothing alike, just because both our mothers are dead. Baz must think I’m an idiot.

Suddenly, I feel a claw reach out towards my chin. Even though it’s sharp, he’s unbelievably delicate as he lifts my head up to his. My breath hitches at the look on his face. His eyes aren’t sharp or simply amused, but open and kind. Nothing held back. The corners of his lip are turned up in a slight smile. He carefully brushes a curl away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. It sends a shudder down my spine all the way to my toes.

“You know why I saved you that day? In the storm?” he whispers, finger tracing my jaw.

“W-Why?” I struggle out of my mouth.

“Because I’ve witnessed marvels beyond your human imagination in the sea. But when I saw you in the water, I realised...” He cups my cheek, his swirling, open eyes completely focused on me. “That you were the most the beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

My brain sinks like ship hit by lightning. No one has ever looked at me the way Baz is looking at me right now. So full of kindness and awe and desire. My throat is too stopped up for words and my tongue feels like it’s made of cotton. I open my mouth and close it again, instead just staring at Baz. I see Baz’s eyes flick down to my lip, just briefly. Our eyes meet, locked together, and somehow we’re moving closer. His fingers are moving to the back of my neck. The tip of his cold nose touches mine, and his lids flutter shut. Mine do too. We’re a breath away. Our heads are angling, and-

“Simon! Simon are you out here?!”

Father’s voice is like a bucket of cold water plus a heart attack. Baz and I shoot away from each other. He looks terrified, and I know my expression mirrors his.

“Go,” I hiss urgently. “I’ll-I’ll come by tomorrow.”

“Simon-”

“Go!”

Baz bites his bottom lip for a moment, then slides down the rock and into the water. I see his tail splash once before he disappears. I let out a shaky breath, sitting up with my knees to my chest.

What in God’s name just happened?! Did...did I almost kiss him? A boy? A _siren_?! Holy mother of Jesus, this is nuts. Yet, I still want to see him again. And I think, even if he didn’t mean to kiss me...I wanted him to.

“Simon? There you are!” I don’t move as I hear my father approach. He looms over me like always. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Watching the ocean,” I mutter.

“Well get up. You were supposed to be back on the boat ages ago.”

“Sorry.” I weakly stand up, arms wrapped around myself. I follow behind him, vaguely hearing him berate me for my soaked clothes. But my mind is far away. It’s down below the sea with a siren who I hope wanted to kiss me as well.

* * *

 

I wake up from a dream I don’t fully remember. It wasn’t any particular image, just a feeling of happiness and calm. I’m already smiling when I wake up. Because now I can jump from bed and run to the cave. Where Baz will hopefully be waiting for me.

After getting dressed as quickly as possible, I jump from my room and run across the deck. Just as I’m about to leap down the plank to shore, I run right into a solid weight. Right into my father.

“And just where are you going?” He asks gruffly.

“Into town,” I reply with a flat voice, hopefully not showing the lie.

“There’s no need. We’re going to be leaving soon.”

My blood runs cold. I take a few staggering steps back. “W-What?”

He smiles, but it looks wrong on his face. His features aren’t made for smiling. “Yes. Finally the wind is picking up. We’ll be setting sail this evening.”

No no no! We’ve been stuck here for a month and _now_ the wind is picking up!? The fates really are against me. “B-But then we need more supplies, right? I can just go get some, then-”

“No,” he says firmly, brief smile vanishing. “Do you think I’m stupid, Simon? You’ve been disappearing every day for longer and longer. What, found some local girl to fool around with? We’re not missing our chance to get to Italy because you wish to bed some whore.”

“That’s not it!” I spit out. “It’s just- I need to go- There’s something- I-”

“Enough sputtering, Simon! Get to work setting the ship up.”

“No!” The word is out, loud and angry, before I can stop myself. Father gawks at me. Never once in all the years of abuse have I shouted at him. But I don’t back down. I push my face towards him, hands clenched into fists. Father scowls, fire burning in his blue eyes.

“Very well,” he growls, “if you refuse to helpful, you’ll stay out of our way.”

He snatches my arm in his iron grip. I struggle and flail, throwing punches at him. But his malnourishment of me has paid off. There’s no way I can get free. He throws me into my tiny room below deck and slams the trapdoor, locking it behind me.

“I’ll figure out a punishment for you when we’re in Venice,” he says sternly. “Behave, and I’ll be more lenient.”

“Fuck you, you son of a bitch!” I yell back.

Father just scoffs once, and that somehow hurts more. He doesn’t even see me as a threat. I’m that pathetic in his eyes. He walks away as I keep shouting at him. I resort to bashing and smashing stuff throwing my anger into every movement. But when there’s nothing left to hurl and my arms are too tired, I sink to the floor, face buried in my curled up knees, and just cry.

* * *

 

 

It’s getting late. The sky is starting to turn from blue to pink. We’ll be setting off soon. And all I can think about is Baz. How he must be sitting in that cove, waiting for me when I’ll never come. God, he must hate me. Must think I abandoned him. I hate that. I just want to go to him and apologize and hold him (and maybe kiss him).

I’m sitting on my bed. In my hands is the plate of the Grey Lady, Baz’s mother. He lost her, and now he’s going to lose me. I don’t want to cause him more pain. That’s the last thing I’d ever want. But I’m stuck. Truly, utterly, stu-

“Simon?”

I look up. Premal is leaning over my grate, concern in his eyes. I scramble up to kneel, gawking at him from below.

“What are you doing here?” I ask quietly.

“Well, uh, I know you’ve been stuck here all day, so I brought you some food.” He slips a bread roll and an apple through the wooden grid. I happily take thm.

“Thanks,” I say through a mouthful of bread. “But, won’t my father punish you?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. But keeping you in here without food is just cruel.

I look down. “Keeping me in here period is just cruel.” A thought crosses my mind. Premal is Father's first mate. And the first mate is always given an extra set of keys. My head whips up. “Wait, you can let me out of here!”

Premal inhales sharply, lips pulling in. “Simon, I’m...I’m not sure I can.”

“You’ve got keys, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“Then let me out!”

“ _But,_  we’re setting sail in an hour! If you run off with your girl and we have to go get you we could miss the wind and be stuck!”

“I won’t be long!” I plead. “It’s just, there’s someone I need to see before we go. Not just some local girl. Someone...” My eyes drift down to the plate, still in my hand. “Someone really important.”

Premal is silent for a moment. When I look up at him again, his eyes are sympathetic. “She’s real, isn’t she? And she saved you in the storm?”

I chew on my lip. I don’t really have time to explain the intricate story of a siren who died and how her son saved my life because he thought I was beautiful and I’ve been seeing him everyday since for a month. So I just shrug. “Sort of. It’s...complicated.”

He goes quiet again, eyes darting around in thought. But after a long sigh, he’s fiddling with the key ring on his belt and opening the lock.

“Thank you!’ I say too loudly.

“Shh!” he hisses as he opens the grate.

“Sorry, sorry.” He helps me out with a hand. I clap his shoulder. “Really though, thank you.”

“Just get back quickly. They’ll be done dinner soon.”

“Sure.” I dash off across the deck and to the shore with one single minded goal: get to Baz.

I reach the cove faster than I ever have before. I don’t see him at first, and my heart tightens, threatening to break. But then I catch a sight of raven black hair wading out into the water, and I can breathe again. I run towards him.

“Baz!” I shout, not caring who hears me.

Baz whips around, grey eyes wide. He quickly swims back to the shore and I kneel over him. I can’t help but smile looking at his face. He looks so relieved, grinning all the way to his ears. I kneel down in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” I say, slightly out of breath. “Father, he-he didn’t want me to leave and kept me locked in my room. We’re supposed to set sail soon. But...” I reach out to his face, and when he doesn’t pull away, I cup his cheek. “I couldn’t leave without seeing you.”

“I nearly left,” he replies, voice hushed and pained. “I thought you weren't coming. That you, forgot me.”

I sigh and lean forward, tapping my forehead to his. He sighs too. “I could never forget you Baz. God, being with you has been the happiest time for me in years.” My heart aches, pounding against my ribcage so hard it hurts. A realisation, a truth, bubbles out of my throat. “I-I wish I never had to leave.”

Baz pulls back. His mouth is a thin, determined line, but his eyes are worried and anxious. “What if you stayed? With me?”

I gasp slightly. “W-What?”

“You...you could come with me.”

“That’s possible?!”

He smiles, somewhere between mischievous and self satisfied and joyful. “Haven’t I already proven that everything is possible for me?”

My jaw drops. I have no idea what the actually logistics of what he’s suggesting. Could I really leave land behind? Jump into the sea with him and forget everything I’ve ever known? No more living on a ship. But living under the waves with all the wonders I saw there, with him. Be with him for the rest of my life, maybe even forever.

Yes. I think I could.

“Simon!? Simon where are you!?”

My father’s voice is loud as thunder and far too close for comfort. Baz and I look in his direction then back at each other. We’re both scared again. Baz lifts his hand from the water, offering it to me.

“Come with me,” he says firmly but with kindness. “And you’ll never have to be under his thumb again. I promise. Trust me.”

I can hear their footsteps getting closer. My heart is pounding in my ears. I feel frozen. This choice weighs so heavily on me I feel like I can’t move. Baz stares at me with his swirling grey eyes, with his determined, kind expression. He shoves his hand further forward.

“Yes or no?” He asks quietly.

There’s only one answer to that. Only one I can accept. I say it quietly, so it's just for him.

“Yes.”

Just as my father spots us and shouts for his men to grab me, I take Baz’s hand, and let myself be pulled under the sea.

I vaguely hear the men saying they’ll wait for me to come up. But they fade away as the water rushes past my ears. Baz pulls us deeper below and farther away from the shore. I hold tightly, partly out of comfort and partly out of necessity. I lose track of how long he drags me. But soon I’m running out of air. I squeeze Baz’s hand insistently, projecting my thoughts to him in case he can hear me.

Suddenly, we stop, and Baz’s hand falls from mine. With eyes still shut tight, I reach out helplessly for him.

 _“Baz!”_ I shout in my mind. _“Baz, where are you?”_

In lieu of an answer, I feel two scaly hands grab my face. Slender fingers curl around the back of my neck and thumbs press into my cheeks. I’m slowly pulled forward. And suddenly, Baz is kissing me.

It doesn’t feel like any kiss I’ve ever had before. (Not that I have many to compare with.) Both in strange and good ways. It’s shy, slightly chaste. His cold lips just press against mine at first, but then slowly open. And it’s like he’s breathing fire and life straight into me. I’m no longer drowning. I can inhale the air he gives me with every slow, open mouthed, heady kiss. I grip his forearms, pulling him closer, deepening our kiss even more. His fingers tangle themselves in my hair. When his tongue wraps around mine, I swear if I were standing, my knees would buckle. My nails dig into his perfect skin, angling my head with his. My nerves are alight, blazing and pleasantly scorched, even deep underwater. It’s like my body is re-adjusting itself, reforming itself under his kiss. I feel like a phoenix. Burnt to the ground and flying out anew from the ashes. And I’ll happily go up in flames under Baz’s mouth.

He slowly pulls away from me. I chase after his lips, but he keeps me away. My eyes are still closed. Coming down from the sensation of his kiss, I feel other things. My neck feels strange, so do my fingers. And my feet suddenly feel too big for my buckled shoes.

 _“Open your eyes, Simon,"_  Baz’s voice says softly in my mind.

Cautiously, I blink open. He’s staring at me, grinning with all his sharp teeth. But it’s not scary. It never is. It’s kind. And so very happy.

I look down at my hands and gasp. There are flaps of skin between my fingers, webbed like just like his. Quickly, I rip off my shoes and stockings, letting them sink to the ocean floor. My feet are in a similar state. But my toes are now longer and spread out. They look like if Baz’s fin was split in half. They keep me afloat far better than they did before. It’s easier to breathe too. I cautiously touch a finger to my neck. Just like I suspected, there are two long, round slices on each side of my throat, opening and closing with each breath. I look back up at Baz, jaw gaping.

 _“What...How...?”_ I think.

 _“I told you everything was possible for me,”_ he muses. _“This is a more permanent solution than before, obviously._ ” He suddenly looks nervous, pulling away slightly. _“Is it alright? I can change you back-”_

 _“No!”_ I swim towards him, holding his arms firmly. _“No, this is great. This is exactly what I wanted- What I_ want _. I can stay with you, forever. Well, as long as I live, I guess.”_

He smiles, tracing the shell of my ear with one claw. _“Which will be forever. Or as long as we please. I can make sure of that. And I will.”_

I smile too, then pull him to me. He hugs me tightly, burying his nose my neck, arms steel bands across my back. I’d happily stay here forever. Floating in the sea pressed against Baz. I’m living a charmed life.

We move apart slowly. I look closely at my new hands and feet (fins now, I guess). I chuckle, though it comes out as a gurgle underwater.

 _“You know,”_ I say, _“even with these, I still won’t be able to keep up with you.”_

 _“I know,”_ he replies, sounding amused. _“A siren’s dream come true. Always being more than a human.”_

I slap his shoulder. _“Oh, piss off.”_

He takes my hand and holds it. My heart melts over the loving way he does it. _“Don’t worry though. I won’t leave you behind.”_

I sigh, and lean my forehead on his. He’ll never leave me behind. And I’ll never leave him. For the first time in my life, and a long time in his, we won’t be alone.

 _“What do we do now?”_ I ask.

He beams at me, then takes my hand in his. We can’t lace our fingers very well, what with the webs, but we still do our best. He pulls me toward into the expansive sea before us.

_“Whatever we please.”_

I swim with him, arm pressed against his, almost able to keep pace. _“Sounds fantastic.”_

And so we leave the edge of Cyprus together. Into waters unknown, to new wonders ahead. We can go anywhere, do anything. Maybe we can see that large reef. Or go see Penelope in England. The world is ours for the taking.

I can’t wait.

**Author's Note:**

> If you couldn't tell, I watched The Shape of Water recently and love it with all my heart. Anyway, hope you liked it! Baz and Simon being happy mermen forever <3 I hope to get the last two kiss meme requests done soon, before midterms kick my ass. However, after those two, I can't take anymore requests from the kiss thing. It's been really fun doing these but it's gotta end sometime. And second semester of uni is gonna kick my ass more than the first. But I hope to reblog more request memes in the summer, which for me is in early May. Again, hope you liked this ridiculous merman fic :D See you next time!  
> EDIT: Oh my god an amazing person drew fan art for this fic. I'm so honoured and happy and melting into a fangirl puddle. You can look at it [here](https://bazypitchandsimonsnow.tumblr.com/post/169781676093/wickedsarcasticc-i-was-inspired-by-one-of-the) and I highly recommend you do.


End file.
